


in the cracks of light

by sithsoupsnakes



Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fix-It, and i want her to be happy :(, i just love marina thompson that's it, this is just a completely self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29495124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sithsoupsnakes/pseuds/sithsoupsnakes
Summary: It’s a strange thing, Marina thinks as she stares unseeingly into the rolling fields, to return to such familiar surroundings only for them to feel completely foreign.-Marina Thompson leaves London with Phillip Crane, resigned to her fate. But the universe has other plans.
Relationships: Marina Thompson/George Crane, Phillip Crane/Marina Thompson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 36





	in the cracks of light

**Author's Note:**

> this is dedicated to past me who was so convinced while watching bridgerton that george crane was going to return and sweep marina off her feet 🙃
> 
> and then i read the books and decided... no ❤️ george is alive actually 😌

It’s a strange thing, Marina thinks as she stares unseeingly into the rolling fields, to return to such familiar surroundings only for them to feel completely foreign.

She’d left her home completely unwillingly, her father practically prying her fingers off the door frame the day she’d been sent to London.

Marina was so hopeful back then. Hopeful that George would come whisk her away as soon as he heard what had happened. Hopeful that her distant cousins would be kind, that the London season wouldn’t eat her alive. 

When she was a girl, she watched with delight as a few lucky eligible women would head off into the city in search of the perfect match.

But some of those women would return to the country at season’s end, poorer and beaten down, perhaps even heartbroken. She couldn’t understand it then, these beautiful local girls going out while in bloom, coming back different. Older, wilted. How could a place do that to someone?

Marina knows better now. The views on the road look the same as when she left her home, but it is her who is entirely changed. A woman now. Fallen. With child. Engaged to a man who looks like a ghost of his older brother.

Her stomach churns with guilt at the thought. Guilt for George, that it’s not him next to her in this carriage. Guilt for Phillip, who clearly mourns for his brother as much as she does. Guilt for her child, that she has to bring into this horrible mess of a life.

“We’ll be at Romney Hall soon,” Phillip mutters. Marina almost misses his words beneath the rumble of the coach. He’s so soft-spoken compared to George, who was so generous with his smiles, his compliments, his love for both the world and her, booming out of his chest.

Marina nods in response. There’s nothing to say now, nothing to be done. She’ll be married, and her child will be safe and honorable, and nothing else will matter.

Romney Hall is clearly a great house, beneath the slightly creeping vines. Marina has only seen it from a distance, but she feels like she knows it well, from George’s stories of growing up. 

It had always seemed so grand when she would catch a glimpse of the house from the road, secretly hoping for the day when George would carry her across the threshold and welcome her as the new Mrs. Crane.

But up close, it’s just a building, slightly gray and battered with age. Perhaps it was always like this, but Marina couldn’t see its true nature underneath all of her naïve fantasies. 

Marina wonders about Phillip’s memories of this place, of his childhood. George spoke of happiness when his mother was alive, at all the fun he and his brother would have in the gardens. His memories of his father weren’t so pleasant, but he told Marina he could never dwell on it. 

George was always the type to let things roll off his shoulders; Marina had admired his ability to stay optimistic. It’s a trait she’s long accepted she doesn’t have.

Phillip puts out hand to help her down the step of the coach, which she reluctantly takes. He’s stiff in his motions, as if he’s acting out the part of the gentleman, still not sure what the role requires.

Still, he’s trying, and Marina supposes soon she’ll have to fill the role of a true lady of the house, for her future child’s sake.

A few servants stream out, Phillip making introductions that Marina barely processes, just nodding and smiling at the housekeeper as she looks around the grounds, trying to get her bearings.

Phillip must dismiss everyone to deal with their bags, because soon she finds herself alone with him in the entrance hall.

“When will we have to- when will we marry?” Marina blurts out.

“I hadn’t-” Phillip furrows his brow, looking surprised at her question. “Before the baby comes, of course. I hadn’t planned that far ahead.”

He’s flustered, but his floundering somehow sets Marina more at ease. He wants to legitimize his child, but he’s not chomping at the bit to bed her. A happy medium then.

“That’s alright,” Marina replies, taking a moment to look around the hall. 

It’s the same as outside. Not decrepit, certainly, but it’s like she can feel the lack of life within the house. It makes her shiver. 

Her smaller house in the village was similar, but if anything it felt crowded, her father’s friends and colleagues always moving through, Marina free to come and go as she pleased, no one to care what she was up to. Until George.

The Featherington’s house was busy as well, but stuffy, each family member wallowing in their own insecurities. Marina could hardly walk into a room without feeling the weight of Portia’s judgement, of the girls’ jealousy, of Mr. Featherington’s leering looks.

Perhaps it was only with Penelope that she found some sense of comfort, before they’d fought.

“Is it to your liking?” Phillip asks, following her gaze.

“It’s very beautiful. Have you been in residence long?” She remembers George explaining that neither he or Phillip liked to be there at the same time as their father, both flying the nest as early and as often as possible. 

She supposes that’s why he joined the army in the first place, back when their father was still alive – anything to get away from him. Perhaps Phillip was the same. 

The late Mr. Crane had only passed a few weeks before George was called to the front, but he’d gone anyway, prioritizing his duty to king and country. Marina patiently awaited the day of his return, when they wouldn’t have to hide their love, not with his new title. But that day never came. 

Phillip shrugs. “Only about a month, before I got word of you. It was never meant to be mine.”

Marina has to close her eyes to fight the tears. Nothing was meant to be this way.

He clears his throat, staring at his shoes, clearly unsure what to do with her incoming tears. Marina doesn’t know either. They’re both playing at this, thrust into lives they never thought they’d have.

“I’ll get someone to show you to your rooms,” Phillip says quietly, still not meeting her eye. “And I will look into procuring a marriage license. Perhaps a shorter engagement is better, considering your…” he gestures at her stomach, and Marina has to hold in a sarcastic laugh at the absurdity of all this.

“That’d be best, yes,” she replies.

They’re able to secure a marriage license for two weeks’ time. It’s certainly longer than some engagements in London, but Marina supposes everything moves a little slower in the country.

She sees her fiancé at dinner, but that’s about it. Phillip is partial to botany, she learns one evening, when she gets curious about where he goes all day.

“Do you like plants?” he asks.

“I suppose,” Marina responds with a small smile, feeling for the first time that her future husband might possess some ounce of humanity, under all the stiffness. “I saw so many beautiful flowers in London, more than I knew existed. It was the one thing I liked about courting when-” she cuts herself off, realizing it’s probably awkward to mention her broken engagement in front of her betrothed.

Phillip nods though, curious now. “You were engaged, correct?”

“Briefly,” Marina whispers. She grimaces at the flash of Colin’s tearful eyes that appear in her mind.

It’s silent for a few moments as they continue to eat. She doesn’t know what to say, and neither does Phillip.

“My greenhouse is still a work in progress,” Phillip finally says. “But you should come see it, if you’re interested. I’m sure I could find some of those flowers you liked in London.”

Marina smiles at that, thanking him. This could be a good thing, she thinks. To have a husband more in love with his plants than her. Phillip can have his greenhouse, she can have her child, her safety, a small bit of freedom in this world.

-

There’s a howling storm one night, just a week before the wedding. Marina’s windows shake with the wind, her room lighting up every few minutes with the crack of lightning.

She pulls a chair to the window, both fearful and intrigued by the weather. She runs a soothing hand across her stomach, hoping her child isn’t shaken by the noise.

Her mind has been a mess all week, shooting and back and forth between hope and despair. Phillip seems to be a good man, who loved George fully. But that doesn’t mean she’ll be happy here. Her baby will be safe, but who knows how far the rumors of her shame have spread. Will it follow around her child forever?

The staff have been kind enough, not prying too much even though her pregnancy is probably well known around the house now, with the physician coming by a few times in just the last week. But there’s no telling what the rest of the world will be like. In Marina’s experience, her child could be in for a cruel fate.

Marina’s never been too religious, but she takes a moment to lean her head against the rattling window and send a prayer to George. It’s fitting after all, given that they met in a church.

She prays for his soul, though he was so pure and honest that she knows he doesn’t need the help. She prays for his memory, that even when it hurts, she’ll tell their child stories of their father. She even prays for her and Phillip, that George, wherever he is, will help them find their way. Marina knows now, they’ll never find it on their own.

She misses him. He used to lean his forehead against hers, in hidden corners and brief moments of intimacy, soothing her when she was upset about her father, about her lot in life. But now the cold windowpane feels like ice against her forehead, and it does nothing to soothe the hot tears running down her face.

The greenhouse is lit up by lightning in the distance. Marina had finally taken a tour of it yesterday, smiling woodenly as Phillip walked her through his plans for the space. It was the most he’d said all week, and all she could think about was that she was finally accepting that this was her future.

No more fantasies of George swooping in to save her, or her waking up to realize this whole mess was all a disturbing dream.

The tears fall harder, and Marina presses her head even further against the glass, hoping for the rain to stop. Or maybe for it to pour even more. She’s not sure of anything these days.

Her life is a paradox now. She dreads a wedding that she needs to happen; she misses a home she never really had; she’s finally going to become a Crane, and yet it’s with the wrong one.

Marina had cursed George’s name a thousand times while in London, and now she can only say it in reverence, and in mourning. She would almost prefer her anger to grief in this lonely house.

She dozes briefly in her seat, knowing she should try to get some sleep. She decides to stay until the next lightning strike that will light up the grounds of Romney Hall.

The strike doesn’t come, but a yell from downstairs does. Marina’s room faces the back of the house, but it opens up onto the second floor landing, just above the entrance hall.

She runs to place her ear against her door, not wanting to wander through the hall at night just yet. There’s a scuffling downstairs, a few people loudly whispering before she’s sure she hears the front door crash open.

Marina’s considering heading down when someone starts banging on her own door.

“Marina,” Phillip almost shouts. She’s never heard him quite so frantic. She throws on a dressing gown quickly, opening the door to find his hand raised, about to knock again.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

Phillip just shakes his head, looking as frazzled as he sounded. He’s half soaked, clearly just come in from the rain, even though he’s in his nightclothes. 

“I’m not-” he chokes on his own words, as if he’s on the verge of tears. “I’m not sure. You’d better see for yourself.”

Marina follows closely as Phillip marches down the stairs and into one of the drawing rooms, passing a few servants who look just as shaken as he is.

There’s a man sitting on the couch, dripping from the rain, body blocked by the butler as he draws a blanket around his shoulders.

The butler moves, and then – and then Marina drops to her knees at the sight of him. He’s bearded, and battered, skinnier than she’d ever imagined he could be. A wilted flower of a man.

But he’s George. He’s still her George.

The broken cry she lets out has everyone in the room pause to look at her. But George is the only face she can see.

She sees the confusion to turn recognition turn to joy at the sight of her.

“Marina?” he tries to stand, but something must be wrong, because he winces at the attempt. Phillip rushes to his side, helping him back down to his seat. “Marina?”

She doesn’t know what to say. He was dead. He _is_ dead. And she’s to marry his brother. But none of that matters really, because he’s here.

Marina knows she must look like a fool as she stands shakily, holding onto the chaise next to her for balance. It takes her ages to get to the couch, pausing briefly as Phillip stands to help her take a seat next to George.

“How are you here?” she whispers, wanting to reach out and touch, but paralyzed that the man in front of her is just a phantom, that as soon as she tries to make contact, his presence will turn to dust.

George chuckles lightheartedly, that same light in his eyes still burning bright, despite his physical changes. “I could ask you the same question.”

His laugh has Marina’s eyes filling with tears again. A sound she’d coveted the first time he gave it to her so freely, a sound she was sure she’d never get to hear again.

Surprisingly, it’s Phillip who laughs in return, pulling up a chair next to his brother with a cup of tea in hand, which he has to help George bring to his lips. “Only you could return from the dead and try to interrogate the ones you left behind, brother.”

Marina has to bring a hand to cover her mouth as George’s fingers tremble just at the weight of the tea cup. He’s always been so much larger than life, her George. If it weren’t for that mirth behind his eyes, even in his weakened state, she’s not sure she would have recognized him.

“You know me,” George says once the cup is back in Phillip’s hands. “I’ve always been a gossip. It’s only natural I’d be curious to find how my brother and my…Miss Thompson came to meet each other.”

Marina scoffs lightly. “Don’t call me that,” she says. He used to whisper that name in her ear during sermons, elongating the ‘s’ and laughing when she would shiver at his words. She thought there wasn’t a sweeter sound than George saying that, until he’d finally called her Marina.

George looks between her and Phillip, half-smiling, but nervous now. “Please don’t tell me I ought to call you Mrs. Crane, Marina. Please tell me you two haven’t gone and married already.”

Phillip’s face contorts at that, and Marina’s sure hers looks the same. She’s never been so thankful for Phillip’s confusion about marriage license acquisition. The thought has her letting out a snort of laughter.

Phillip stays still for another moment, before his face breaks as well. Marina lets herself laugh fully then, a laugh of complete confusion and relief.

Suddenly Phillip drops the tea cup as he leans over to hug his brother tightly, almost sobbing into his shoulder in laughter. “You have no idea how glad I am that you’re here.”

His words just make Marina laugh even harder. She’d known he was hesitant about the marriage, but his pure and utter bliss that he won’t be the new baronet, that he won’t be her husband, is the funniest thing she’s seen in months.

George looks between the two of them. “Will someone answer me?”

“I’m still Miss Thompson,” she says between a giggle.

“Well thank god for that,” George says, finally reaching out to place a shaky hand over hers. It’s the best thing she’s ever felt.

Phillip sits back, looking lighter than Marina’s ever seen him. “I need to see about getting a doctor up here,” he says as he stands, obviously keen to give them a moment alone.

“That’d be best,” George says, looking tired now. “I’m patched up alright, but the journey home did a number on me.”

“George,” Marina squeezes his hand, wanting to fall into his side. “Why didn’t you just send word? You could’ve killed yourself in a storm like this.”

“I heard rumors when I got back to England, that you were seeking me out. I knew I had to get to you, so I did,” he says with a shrug. So simple, he makes it all seem, even injured from battle, soaked to the bone from the rain. He wanted to get home, so he made it happen.

It’s enough to make Marina cry again. For months she’d held onto the knowledge of the type of man he was. George had always found a way to do the right thing, to make things happen if he wanted them to. She’d faltered in her faith in him, because of lies, even because of death, but she should have known. He’d find a way.

He looks pointedly at her stomach, eyes glistening with tears. “Are you alright? Is the baby alright?”

There’s so much Marina has to tell him, so much awfulness she wants to confess. And she’s certain he’s been through worse.

But for now she nods, and lets herself smile freely as she guides his hands to her stomach.

“We will be,” she whispers.

George leans his forehead against hers, tears falling as he feels a kick. And Marina feels like she’s finally come home.

**Author's Note:**

> lol like i said this was completely self-indulgent, i just really wanted to write from marina's perspective and wanted her to get a little bit of happiness 🌝 and give phillip a chance to be his own man 😭 i love him sm
> 
> heres my [tumblr!!](https://sithsoupsnakes.tumblr.com/)


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